No Such Thing As Coincidence
by ViceCity86
Summary: They thought they had put the Garrett Mason case behind them... but when Rusty and Stefan have to head to New York to help solve a case similar to the Black Dahila killings, what kind of trouble will they run into? (AU, does not follow the events of The Godfather 2 game)


**Trapani house, Manhattan, New York, Noelle's P.O.V**

I wake up after falling asleep on the couch, having tried to wait up for Dad again… the second I look and see that the Tv is on, I can't bring myself to look away from the screen as an old news report aired, reminding people that it had been 13 years since the Black Dahlia serial killer died…

13 years, he's gone unnamed… 13 years… no one on the LAPD ever elaborated on this case and the head detective tragically drowned while trying to rescue two people not so long after the shooting itself.

I was born on the exact day the killer died… September 2nd 1947… It's kind of eerie how things like that happen. It's also kind of eerie that as of late, several innocent women ended up dead in the same manner as the Dahlia killings.

"Get your mind on something else, kiddo." I hear, look and see Dad sit down next to me.

"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing the blue-grey eyes I inherited from my mother, looking at the digital alarm clock and see that it's 12:00am on the dot…

"Happy birthday, Noelle." Dad says, lightly tucking some of my newly cut shoulder length raven hair behind my right ear before kissing me on my forehead, picking me up in his arms and taking me up to my room, saying that the couch is no place for a teenager to get a good night's sleep.

September 2nd 1960… 13, right on the minute.

Whoever you were, did you feel any remorse about killing those women while you were dying? Did you feel any pain, you psychopath? Sadistic joy for fooling the cops who had arrested innocent men and charged them with the crimes you committed?

In your dying moments… did you feel anything at all?

Hell, why do I have a feeling you're not dead at all?

 **Meanwhile, Los Angeles, Rusty's P.O.V**

In just 3 hours, it'll be 13 years to the day since Cole shot and killed Garrett Mason.

When I first met Cole, he was what I'd considered a rookie back then, he hadn't been an officer for as long as I had… I worked alone at that point, didn't really like working cases with others.

It wasn't too long after that night that I read the Daily Herald newspaper… by pure coincidence, I found out that a child had been born the same night Garrett Mason was killed, a baby girl by the name of Noelle Adriana Trapani.

Reading about her made me think of my own daughter, who is now 27 and has two kids of her own. I see them every now and again, it's taking time to earn my daughter's trust since I was rarely around while she was growing up.

"You look tired, old man." I hear, look and see Stefan, who I guess had stopped by to check on me.

Then I remembered… he and I are supposed to head to New York, the cops there have a case that matches an old pattern… the Black Dahlia killings from 13 years ago.

"Trying to get as much rest as I can before we fly to the city that never sleeps." I say groggily before shutting the Tv off… I don't want to remember Cole Phelps as how they described him as the overzealous cop who wrongly jailed innocent men while trying to solve what I thought were domestic abuse cases that escalated to murder… I like to remember Cole as someone who did what he thought was right, no matter what rules and regulations he had to break.

"After this case, I'm considering putting in my retirement papers." Stefan says.

"You're still young and needed by the LAPD. I'm the one who should be considering retirement, I'm almost 60 years old." I say, trying to lighten the mood… but it's not working.

Why do I have a sickening feeling that we're not hunting a copycat?

Mason's been dead for 13 years… or has he?

 **A few hours later…**

Jack Kelso hated cases like these. He had been helping the NYPD for months and they were still no closer to solving these killings…

One thing he put together was the type of victim the killer targeted. Young, between early teens and early 20s, small, dark hair, blue eyes… a lot like the original Dahlia victim.

That's when a sickening realisation hit Jack… they were also a lot like his next door neighbor, Noelle.

Jack grabbed his keys and ran outside into the storm, getting in his blue 1959 ragtop Impala and started it up, driving off.

The latest victim looked eerily similar to Noelle… he had to warn her.


End file.
